Translation: "We didn't think it was a problem until enough people noticed. We were hoping nobody would notice, though. We didn't want to stop the music until we were forced to."

I know, seriously! Or, translated: I didn't think it was a problem until the public began to think it was a problem. It's not a problem unless it's losing us money - luckily we were only working on a special, so nothing major. THANK GOD, right?!?!?!

We must always consider the feelings of rapists. Their psyche's are damaged enough as it is, poor things. They wouldn't be raping if that wasn't the case! Take one for the team, ladies, and let them get on with their lives... they deserve it after everything they've been through.

Let's stop expecting women and girls to sacrifice our dignity, safety, and lives to male insecurity.

"I will not live with the guilt of someone passing away."

Can we drop the "good kid/person who made some mistakes" narrative as a defense? The only thing that sentence means is "yes [he/she] is a [rapist/murderer/pedophile/violent bigot], but I [the speaker] still love [him/her]." Honestly, I couldn't care less that you still love your rapist son or violent bigot husband. …

I will scream this from the mountain tops for all my days. Comprehensive sex ed is as necessary as a math class. We should be talking about consent and bodily autonomy with kids from day one.

I'm raising a 16 year old son. We discuss enthusiastic consent all of the time. This also means that we go through scenarios and break down when consent is given or not. I've also told him there are non weird ways to ask if what he is doing is ok and if she feels comfortable going further.

Neil deGrasse Tyson was a black kid raised in the Bronx, educated in the New York public school system, who went on to get his BA in Physics from Harvard, his Master's in astrophysics from University of Texas, and his PhD in astrophysics from Columbia. Those are degrees most people don't have the intellectual capacity…

That jumped out at me too... "she got pregnant". Nope, nothing that I was involved in, nothing to see here!

I have drawn this same line in the sand too. Your body, your choice to mutilate— my brain, my choice to call it a bunch of patriarchal claptrap.

Ehh I don't think critiquing the rising prevalence of plastic surgery infringes on agency. I'm definitely 3/4th wave and we have a pretty good grasp on the failures of "choose your choice" feminism and why agency is never completely unhindered. Choices are not made in a vaccuum. Should we shame individual women for…

I can't disagree. Small boobs, big thighs, wrinkles, crooked noses - this is what a human body looks like. How did we get to the point of accepting that it's bad to look like a human?

Yeah, I kind of think that sometimes. It's wonderful to have a choice, yes, and that's what feminism is all about. But it goes back to the proverbial question, how much of a true choice is it when it's basically made by a bunch of pressure from society in every angle :(

why couldn't the Obama kids listen to wholesome music that's about whiskey drinkin' and coke snortin'?

This controversy is doing nothing but reinforcing all the stereotypes about liberals being humorless and seeking something to be offended by

Uh, chicken breasts are $6/lb at my local Bi-Lo in TN. Chicken breasts are damn expensive. A whole chicken is $1.69/lb. Getting breasts for that price is unheard of!

Don't give me that bullshit. I've been homeless. When you've sat there wondering if you're sleeping in the car tonight or if one of your mom's friends can spare a room tonight, yeah, you know what being that destitute is like.

...uh, you do know I'm a Texan, right? You do know I went to school at UT and was a member of the capitol press corps? Oh, and I did my graduate work at another Texas university in government and political science? Uh huh. I thought not.

I was lovin' it in Tokyo, with well-dressed coiffed skinny-jeansed fabulously-shod men crowding the sidewalks to the left and the right and fore and aft.... Then I landed back home, and returned to a streetful of men in XXXL shirts, kulat-length shorts, athletic socks and rubber sandals. *womp womp womp*